


Dude, Where's My Ape?

by blackmountainbones, BobSkeleton



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Drug Use, Gen, Gift Fic, Heist, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Pre-Slash, The Mighty Boosh - Freeform, The Shaman Council - Freeform, The Zoo Times, Tony Harrison adopts, crackwives strike again, howard and vince do the trojan horse, we apologize but also regret nothing, we love the shaman council and they love us back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22741468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackmountainbones/pseuds/blackmountainbones, https://archiveofourown.org/users/BobSkeleton/pseuds/BobSkeleton
Summary: This story can be summed up best by the very first note we made on it:Naboo goes out on a benderLoses BolloThe council gets involvedAnd so do the boysAdventures are hadSarcasm is spokenAnd the boys discover their feelingsThe end
Relationships: Howard Moon/Vince Noir
Comments: 16
Kudos: 28





	Dude, Where's My Ape?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [A_Little_Boosh_Maid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Little_Boosh_Maid/gifts).



> Well, well, well... the Crackwives strike again!
> 
> We wrote this fic as a thank you to our beautiful beta, [A_Little_Boosh_Maid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Little_Boosh_Maid/pseuds/A_Little_Boosh_Maid), for all their hard work and assistance on [Alien Baby](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19661752/chapters/46573684). Beta-ing 112k words is no mean feat, and we are forever grateful to you! 
> 
> As this was a gift, we wanted it to be a surprise and so this fic has not been Brit-picked. As vulgar Americans, we can only apologize for any glaring language mistakes. 
> 
> In our imaginations, this takes place in between Seasons 1 and 2, and is how Vince and Howard first encountered the Shaman Council, and possibly why Naboo would be willing to have them as roommates. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Things never seemed to work out for Howard Moon. Just this morning he’d been stammering out a heartfelt confession, attempting to express years of his most repressed longings without messing up beyond repair. “I don’t know, Vince,” he stammered, “maybe what I’m saying is… after all these years and our adventures, is that, when it comes down to it, I… what I mean to say is that I’ve always--”

Howard cut off the awkward flow of words, noticing for the first time how painfully close he was standing to his best mate, Vince Noir, whose wide, sparkly blue eyes were boring into Howard’s own browner, smaller ones, so close he could smell the candyfloss shampoo and clean hay and overwhelming  _ Vince-ness  _ of him. 

For once, Vince, who was always talking, wasn’t saying anything, and Howard rushed to fill the silence before Vince could say the one thing Howard hoped he would. “Look, I know it’s a lot, so you don’t have to choose right now--you can take your time, let me know when you’re ready--”

Howard’s emphatic declaration was interrupted by the world’s first deadpan scream. The sound was completely unlike any other sound either man had heard before in their lives, and Vince and Howard jolted apart, putting a respectable distance back between them. They stared at each other, their eyes flickering to the door of the keeper hut, then back at each other, then back again. 

Hesitantly, Howard took a step toward the door. Whatever moment they’d been having was gone, and Howard knew he’d never get it back.

It seemed there were more pressing matters at hand, a fact that was reinforced by Naboo storming through the door of the keeper hut. 

The tiny shaman looked worse for the wear. Not only were his eyes more bloodshot than usual, his purple robes were rumpled and stained, and his turban was looking a bit singed.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS BOLLO?!?!?!” Naboo belted.

“Do you mind?” Howard asked at the same time that Vince asked, “What d’ya mean, where’s Bollo?”

“Bollo’s missing, I can’t find him anywhere,” Naboo lisped anxiously. Seeing the usually-indifferent-to-everything Naboo display any emotion, much less anxiety, was unsettling. 

Vince immediately turned to face the tiny, disheveled-looking shaman, looking just as unsettled as Howard was by Naboo’s uncharacteristic display of emotion. Vince took a step towards the distraught shaman, and Howard’s heart leapt in his chest--he wasn’t ready to let the moment go, not after it had taken them so long and so much just to get to this point--

But Vince shrugged him off, gesturing dramatically at Naboo, who was currently rummaging distraughtly through the cabinets in the Keeper Hut kitchen despite the fact that Bollo was a fully mature gorilla and much too large to fit inside them.

Howard mumbled, more to himself than anyone else, “But we were in the middle of something…”

“Later, Howard,” Vince said softly. “Have you ever seen Naboo have an emotion that  _ wasn’t _ sarcasm? Something is very, very wrong.”

Howard’s heart, which had been fluttering in his chest for years, suddenly  _ stopped _ . He’d been working towards the moment that Naboo had interrupted for his whole life, almost, and if Vince really  _ had _ felt the same way, well, he probably wouldn’t have been so distracted by Naboo’s search for his missing gorilla. At least Howard could think of absolutely nothing else to explain Vince’s behavior. 

Meanwhile, Vince continued ignoring Howard’s sulk, instead attempting to gather information about the situation from Naboo. “Can’t you just look up Bollo in your crystal ball or something?”

“That’s not how it works,” Naboo lisped in exasperation. “It’s a crystal ball, not Google Maps for lost familiars!” 

“All right, calm down,” said Vince. “We’ll help you look. Where’d you last see him?”

“We went on a bender last night, I can’t remember,” replied Naboo. 

“Well, that makes things difficult,” Vince said thoughtfully. “Let’s start here, yeah? And work our way through the zoo. You said you two’d been drinking?” Naboo nodded slowly. “Maybe he stayed the night in someone else’s exhibit.” 

Howard was still busy sulking. He wanted to go curl up in his sleeping bag and have a good cry, or eat a pint of ice cream while weeping, or stand in the shower and wail with despair, but Vince and Naboo seemed insistent that he help them find Bollo, so Howard simply sighed and followed Vince and Naboo out of the keeper hut to assist their search for Naboo’s missing ape. 

Three hours later, there was still no sign of Bollo.

The two keepers and the shaman searched every inch of the zoo, from the ladybugs to the llamas, yet there was no Bollo to be found anywhere. 

Vince had asked each animal if they’d seen a gorilla on the loose, but none had. Only the other gorillas reported having any knowledge of Bollo’s whereabouts the night before: he’d been napping in with the other gorillas until around ten, when Naboo had come to let him out of the cage, insisting Bollo had to accompany him to poker night at the pub. According to his fellow apes, Bollo had never come home.

At this point, Naboo began to panic. He only vaguely remembered last night... admittedly, he  _ had _ been drunk and on drugs at the time. Granted, Naboo was often drunk and on drugs, but yesterday had been a bender for the books. He’d started drinking at noon, and everything after that had gone.... blank. All evidence pointed to Naboo having been the one to lose Bollo.

It was one thing to let loose an ape on the unsuspecting London public, but it was another thing altogether to let loose a  _ magical _ ape on the unsuspecting London public. There could be consequences, dire, dire consequences...

Naboo shivered. He was going to have to do something he’d regret--he was going to have to summon the Shaman Council.   
  


Summoning the Shaman Council required dark and terrible magic. Naboo surveyed his altar, assessing the various magical implements adorning its surface, finally reaching for his censer. He shoved a handful of fresh, dank marijuana buds inside, then used a torch lighter to ignite it. When the bud began to smolder, he gently waved the censer around, chanting the mantra  _ Serenity now. Serenity now. Serenity now _ softly _. _

Vince and Howard looked on wide-eyed at Naboo as he stalked around the room, blowing weed smoke into each corner of his kiosk and chanting his strange chant. The small room grew hazy with smoke, and Howard was beginning to feel a bit light-headed...

He took a deep breath, and the smoke burned his lungs on the way down, triggering a coughing fit. The lack of oxygen had him reeling for a moment, and he grabbed at Vince to steady himself, and the whole world... shifted.

Howard had no other way to describe what had just happened. One second the world was the way it always was, and then the next, it wasn’t. Sounds were louder, colors brighter, the edges of space-time seeming to bend in strange ways. He wondered if Naboo’s magic had something to do with it, and the idea was so hilarious that he laughed, still clutching Vince by the shoulder (actually, he’d completely forgotten that he’d grabbed Vince to avoid tripping over his own feet). When Howard began laughing, Vince soon followed.

Naboo shot the two idiots in giggles on his floor a pointed look from behind a thick haze of marijuana smoke, which made Vince giggle harder, which made Naboo glare harder, which made Vince giggle more. The two men were caught in a feedback loop that showed no sign of ending when Vince finally managed to swallow his laughter and say, “You look like a priest, Naboo, only I like your dress better.” 

“S’not a dress,” Naboo lisped defensively. “Shut up, this is important.” 

“Yes, Father Naboo,” Vince mumbled to himself under his breath, erupting in another fit of giggles. Howard almost followed him (Naboo did look rather like a priest with his long, flowing robes and the ceremonial incense burner)... but a rather withering glance from Naboo put a stop to that. Instead, Howard squinted his eyes, focusing rather intently on the tiny shaman.

“Howard! Your eyes are even smaller than usual! They’re so small they almost disappear!” Vince cackled.

“I  _ said _ shut up, and I’m not going to say it again!” Naboo lisped. “The next person who talks is getting turned into a newt!” 

That finally shut Vince up. Naboo finished flooding the kiosk with suffocating smoke, and sat cross-legged on the center of the floor, eyes closed in mediation. Vince had found a mirror and was examining his face very carefully, as though he’d never really looked at it before, while Howard gazed pitifully into the corner. 

“Have you ever seen my face, Howard?” asked Vince, running a finger along the bridge of his nose. “It’s so pointy!”

Howard coughed, again, his throat raw from both the smoke and his continued efforts to choke through it. “At least you  _ have  _ a face, Vince,” he said hoarsely, starting morosely at nothing. “I am faceless, a nobody adrift on the sands of time."

Vince giggled to himself, then put a hand on Howard’s shoulder. “Come off it, Howard, it ain’t as bad as all that.”

“Is it not?” Howard said, his voice carrying the weight of eons. “You yourself said I’m vague-looking. Remember when you tried to draw my portrait?”

“Technically, I tried to  _ paint  _ it.”

“Remember when you tried to  _ paint  _ my portrait? You gave me a pink balloon for a face and I’ve been without solace ever since. The frailty of man, the inconsequential ideas of identity… what’s it all for? What is the  _ point,  _ what’s--”

“I am three seconds away from hexing your bollocks off,” lisped Naboo angrily. He rose from his spot on the floor and shot a withering look at Vince and Howard. “Neither of you can handle your drugs, and it’s pathetic.” He retrieved what looked like a beeper from a drawer, and Vince grabbed it from his hands with all the eagerness of a toddler in a sweet shop. 

“Naboolio, what is  _ this?  _ A beeper?”

Naboo grabbed it back defensively. “Yeah, it’s a magical communication device. I need help finding Bollo, and though it pains me to do this, I need to summon the Council of Shaman.” 

“There’s a  _ council _ ?” Vince asked in awe. 

“Oh no,” whined Howard. 

“What?” asked Naboo. 

“If they come here, they’ll smell drugs. They’ll think  _ I  _ gave them to you because of my shifty eyes.” Howard yanked on his moustache, eyes wild with panic. “I could lose my job, I could lose my reputation… don’t let them get rid of me, Naboo, I’ve got so much to give!” 

“Unbelievable,” said Naboo. “You’re pretentious  _ and  _ paranoid, and this one’s a budgie,” Naboo rolled his eyes in Vince’s direction. “I promise, nobody’s going to come and put you away, Howard. Besides, if they thought you gave me drugs, you’d be their new favorite person. ”

“Wait…” said Vince slowly, as pieces of information sluggishly slotted into place. “If you summon the Council of Shaman with a beeper… what was all the smoke for?”

“You’ve never met the Council before,” replied Naboo. “You do  _ not  _ want to be sober for this.” He then proceeded to shove a handful of pills down his throat from the emergency stash he kept under the crystal ball. 

Howard was beginning to doubt that, mostly due to his paranoia and rapidly rising heart rate.

Vince did notice that Howard was trying to be quiet and not freak out, but he was also starting to feel hungry. “Hey, Naboo, you got any sweets?”

“No,” Naboo said.

“You’re lying,” Vince said. “You’ve got a bag of Haribo on the counter.”

“Well,” Naboo lisped, “I got that Haribo from Shamansbury’s. It’s full of LSD. I don’t recommend you eat them... I know how you are with sweets. No  _ way _ you’d be able to just have one, and any more than that will remove points from your IQ and I don’t think you have too many to spare.”

Howard giggled a little, but then felt guilty and paranoid about it, and returned to corner-gazing.

Vince had stopped paying attention as soon as it was apparent that he wasn’t getting any of the sweets, so he didn’t respond to Naboo’s sick burn. Perhaps if he hadn’t been sitting in a room breathing Naboo’s shamanic marijuana fumes he’d’ve managed it, but as it was, his admittedly already-dull senses were rather duller than usual. “What else do you have to eat?”

“Well, I do have some of Bollo’s leftovers in the fridge,” Naboo said. “A head of lettuce, four carrots, and a sweet potato.” 

Vince helped himself to Bollo’s vegetables, downing two of the four carrots before munching on the head of lettuce like it was an apple.

Naboo stared at the man, appalled. 

“You know you’re eating vegetables, right?” Howard asked. Vince  _ never _ ate vegetables--he subsisted on a strict diet of sweets and Flirtinis.

Vince stopped chewing mid-crunch and looked appalled. “I’m so  _ hungry _ , Howard,” he whined, taking another bite. 

“You’ve just got the munchies,” Naboo said. “After the Council gets here, we’ll stop by Tesco’s. Get you some Haribo and you, Howard, I know where to track down some leftover World War II emergency rations.”

“I can’t eat valuable antiques, Naboo!” Howard cried.

“Well, you might  _ have _ to,” Naboo said, looking perplexed. “Is that not what you eat?” 

“No, I drink a normal English Breakfast tea while I eat a normal English breakfast,” Howard insisted.

Vince dissolved into another fit of giggles, which seemed to confuse Howard even further. “What’s so funny about that?” he huffed, while Vince carried on cackling like a madman. 

“Imagine if you did eat antiques, though, that’d be genius, Howard...” 

Naboo was about to slap both men back into reality when a knock sounded on the kiosk window.

“Is that the magic men?” Vince asked eagerly. “I want to see them.”

“I don’t,” whined Howard. 

“Shut up,” muttered Naboo under his breath as he prepared to let in an eclectic cast of characters. “Don’t make me regret this any more than I already do.”

A knock sounded from the kiosk door. Before Naboo was able to get to his feet to answer the knock, the door burst open as if by magic to reveal a motley crew of strange-looking men sitting cross-legged on a carpet that hovered a few inches off the ground.

Vince and Howard sat in the corner, stupid and slackjawed. 

A bald man with unfortunate face tattoos stood up and stepped off the carpet and into the kiosk. His deep voice boomed, “ Naboo Randolph Roberdy Poberdy the Enigma, you have summoned the Council of Shaman. State the nature of--”

The intimidating man was interrupted by a nasal whine sounding from somewhere on the floating carpet. “Shit off, you pretentious prat! I’m a bit sick, give me some air!” 

“Why are you even here? Literally  _ every _ type of transport gives you motion sickness,” the shaman wearing a feathered hat griped as he followed the bald man into Naboo’s sitting room.

“I’ve been on this Council longer than you have, you slag!” whined the voice. “Besides, I’m great on bicycles, you know that. Slot me in the basket like a poodle and I’m good to go!” 

“You’d better come in before Bob Fossil sees you,” lisped Naboo as he motioned for the beings remaining on the carpet to enter the kiosk. “Roll up the carpet, too, can’t leave it just floating there.” 

“At least your living quarters don’t smell like animal shit,” groused the man with the feathered hat, taking a deep breath of the hazy air inside the kiosk. 

“I don’t live here, I work here,” replied Naboo apathetically. 

“Is that Blue Dream I smell burning?” a shaman who appeared to be a prepubescent child asked. It was unsettling to see a child that looked to be no more than nine years old talking so knowledgeably and so enthusiastically about illegal drugs.

“It’s a new hybrid between Blue Dream and Pineapple Kush. I call it Blueberry-Pineapple Smoothie,” Naboo said proudly. “But enough of this. I didn’t call you here to discuss my marijuana breeding experiment.”

That disembodied nasal voice spoke again. “So what did you call us for?” 

Howard and Vince watched in wide-eyed wonderment as the tall bald man, the child, and the grouchy Shaman dressed in black made their way into the kiosk, grumbling as they went. Eventually, the one dressed in black removed a shoulder bag and opened it, revealing a pink head inside. 

Howard gasped and Vince shrieked, both men holding onto each other in their terror. 

“Oh, all right?” greeted the head, beaming a smile at the two. The black-clad shaman extracted the head from the bag and set it on the sofa, whereupon Vince and Howard were further horrified to discover the disembodied head had tentacles. The pink creature leered at Vince, grinning all the while. “How do you do, my dear? My name’s Tony Harrison, CBE, Chief Ents Officer of the Council of Shaman of Xooberon. And who might you be?” He winked, and Vince thought he might be sick. 

Luckily, Howard, delusional from inhaling so much of Naboo’s experimental weed, stood up and put himself bodily between Tony Harrison and Vince. 

“If you want to get to Vince, you’ll have to go through me,” Howard said grandly. Vince, slightly stoned out of his mind, felt his belly warm and his head go dizzy hearing Howard defend him like that. 

“All right, Tom Selleck, I meant no offense,” offered the pink head. “You have a lovely wife, my compliments.” 

“Vince isn’t--” Howard stammered, “that is, he’s not, erm,  _ we’re _ not--”

Naboo sighed dramatically before stepping into the fray. “My fellow shaman, these cretins are Vince and Howard. Howard’s the one who looks like Magnum PI, while Vince looks like an ugly woman, but they are both men and they’re not married, although they do have this weird unresolved sexual tension thing that is disgusting and uncomfortable to watch.” The two men in question began to protest, but Naboo continued, raising his lisping voice to talk over them. “And the idiots who just invaded my kiosk are the Xooberonian Shaman Council. Dennis, the Head Shaman,” he continued, inclining his head at the tattooed bald man. “This unpleasant pedant is Saboo,” he said, gesturing to the black-clad Shaman. “This is Kirk, he appears to be an innocent child but don’t be fooled--he’s a deranged being capable of alarming violence and sexual depravity. Do not trust him,” Naboo continued, pointing to the child. “And  _ that,”  _ said Naboo, pointing at the pink tentacled creature, “is Tony Harrison.” 

Vince and Howard leaned in to take a closer look at Tony Harrison. While the other shaman were dressed in weird robes, they at least looked human. But Tony Harrison was an altogether inhuman creature. He had a head that looked like an oversized, Pepto-Bismol pink testicle that sprouted six short and squirming tentacles at the base. All this considered, the most unsettling thing about Tony Harrison’s appearance was the curious resemblance his visage bore to Vince’s.

Vince Noir had, for want of a better word, rather  _ unique _ features: alarmingly big blue eyes, a long, bumpy nose, and a pointy chin. In contrast to Howard’s rather bland, almost ambient, face, Vince’s face had  _ too much _ going on, yet, for all that, he was beautiful.

The creature that Saboo cradled in his arms, however, was disgusting. Disturbing. It made you feel queasy just to look at it...

“We’ve met,” said Tony Harrison, waggling nonexistent eyebrows at Vince. Howard puffed himself even bigger in an attempt to protect Vince, but poor Vince had already connected the dots: if he shaved his head, got a bad sunburn, and sprouted tentacles out of his neck, he’d look just like Tony Harrison. 

Stars wavered in the corners of Vince’s vision as he grabbed into Howard’s shoulder in an attempt to remain upright. “Air,” he murmured. 

Howard spun around and caught Vince just in time. “Oh no,” Howard said dramatically. He was still feeling very anxious and paranoid, and was sure all of this was somehow his fault. 

“Well done, Tony Harrison,” said Saboo as he clapped sarcastically. “You’ve made the lady-man faint, you disgusting lump.” 

“Oh, it’s not my fault!” keened Tony Harrison. “Naboo’s hotboxing in his little cart with two very weak earth specimens! That’s got nothing to do with me!”

“Shut up, all of you,” said Naboo. “Howard, take Vince outside, get him some fresh air. You two shouldn’t even be here, technically speaking, but this  _ has  _ been pretty entertaining.” A hint of a smile quirked the corners of Naboo’s mouth as he fished around in the pockets of his robe. He pulled out a fiver and pressed it into Howard’s hands. “Go get Vince an ice cream or summat, I’m going to fill the rest of the Council in on the situation.” 

Howard, who was in no position to argue, was relieved to have orders to follow and supported Vince as they exited the smoky kiosk, the sounds of Saboo, Tony Harrison, and Dennis arguing following them as they went. 

While the Shaman shouted at each other in the background, Howard led Vince to a bench; Vince slumped gracelessly into the seat, resting his elbows on his knees, his head sagging between his legs. Howard patted Vince’s shoulder awkwardly, unsure how to proceed after the humiliation of his aborted love-confession. “Easy, little man. Sit here, head down--breathe! In through the nose, out through the mouth.” 

“You saved me, Howard,” came Vince’s voice, muffled from his head being practically in his own lap. 

Howard smiled to himself, a flush of pride heating his face. He thought about earlier, the moment Naboo had so  _ rudely  _ interrupted. He and Vince had been on the brink of something, Howard just  _ knew _ it. They’d been so close to acknowledging whatever it was that had always existed between them, that had held them together for two entire decades, and then, the moment was lost. Probably for good. Now wasn’t the time to try and get it back, but it didn’t mean Howard couldn’t flirt with the moment. He reached over and traced soothing circles on Vince’s back. 

“Just breathe,” Howard repeated, “you’re doing great. How’re you feeling?”

“Awful,” said Vince desperately. He lifted his head, his cheeks still a bit pale. “Howard, that… that  _ thing,  _ Tony whatever… do you think he  _ looked like me _ ?” 

Howard swallowed. He had noticed the uncanny resemblance, and it had disturbed him, but he knew he could not risk telling Vince the truth. “No,” said Howard, not altogether convincingly. “It didn’t cross my mind.” 

“Are you serious?” Vince asked incredulously. “He looked  _ just  _ like me! Same nose and everything!”

“What are you on about?” asked Howard, forcing himself to laugh. 

“And the bald one, the leader or whatever, he looked just like you!” 

The grin left Howard’s face. “Vince, I think you were clearly under the influence of Naboo’s crazy drugs. The magical men from outer space do not look like us; it’s simply inconceivable.” 

Vince sat up and looked Howard squarely in the eye. “Next time we see them, you take a good hard look and tell me I’m not making it up.”   


Howard swallowed. He sort of hoped there wouldn’t  _ be  _ a next time. The Shaman Council were, quite frankly, terrifying. Naboo had always sort of weirded Howard out, with his drugs and his so-called “magical abilities,” but he was a nice enough guy once you got to know him. Eccentric, but nice. Howard did not feel the same confidence about the rest of the Shaman. He was sure the one with the feathered hat would sell his mother to Satan for a crisp, and not even a salt-and-vinegar one. 

“Let’s get you an ice cream, shall we?” Howard said, hoping the promise of sweets would divert Vince’s attention. “The sugar should clear your head.”

His plan worked. Vince immediately sprang to his feet. “I want a Dilly bar  _ and _ a strawberry brunch  _ and _ a coconut cream ice lolly.” 

“Easy there,” Howard scolded, not meaning it all, “Naboo only gave us five euro.”

Vince tugged on Howard’s sleeve. “Howard, I’m so  _ hungry _ ,” he whined, his eyes wide and pleading. “I think I have the  _ munchies.” _

Sighing, Howard felt for his wallet. He  _ knew _ he’d end up supplementing Naboo’s money with his own to buy Vince all the ice cream he wanted. 

“My hero,” said Vince sweetly as he linked his arm through Howard’s, the promise of sugar tantalizingly sweet as they made their way to the concession stand next to the Night World.

Howard, of course, had many mixed feelings about all of this, but tried to push his worried thoughts aside and just enjoy Vince’s company. This was fine--they’d been friends for years, friends forever. Nothing had to change just because they’d  _ almost _ crossed some boundary.

He’d nearly managed to convince himself to believe it, but then Vince licked his ice lolly lasciviously and made a comment about the cream being his favorite part. Howard had to close his eyes, cross his legs, and stifle a groan.

  
  


Naboo put a fresh coal on the hookah. “I have summoned you ballbags here today because I have... a problem.”

“Just take penicillin and abstain from sexual contact for a week,” Tony Harrison advised.

"Not  _ that _ kind of problem, you degenerate,” Naboo sneered. 

Dennis sat himself down on the sofa next to Naboo and addressed him seriously, “Tell us your problem, Naboo.” 

Naboo took a long, deep drag off the hookah, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke right into the faces of his fellow shaman. Hopefully the secondhand smoke would be enough to mellow them out enough to take the news without freaking out. “Well, you see... Bollo is missing.”

“That lousy ape?” Kirk asked. “Good riddance! You should have upgraded a long time ago.”

“Kirk,” interrupted Dennis, “misplacing a familiar is a serious violation of the Shamanic Code we swore to uphold as members of the Shaman Council.” He turned back to Naboo. “Where did you see Bollo last?”

“You absolute plum,” inserted Saboo. “If he knew that, Bollo wouldn’t be lost, would he?”

“Well, uh, that’s the problem,” Naboo admitted. “I don’t remember.”

“Extremely irresponsible of you,” Dennis chided.

“I was drunk!” Naboo protested. “On a total blinder.” 

“Oh, never drink on the job, Naboo!” wailed Tony Harrison. 

Naboo crinkled his brow at the tentacled shaman. “As if you’ve never been drunk on the job. You’re probably half-pissed as we speak. And besides, I wasn’t working.” 

“Drinking to excess is a sign of deeper problems,” continued Tony Harrison, completely ignoring Naboo’s accusations. “Is there something else you need to discuss with us?”

“I don’t believe this,” Naboo lisped to himself. “Am I being lectured on drinking by  _ Tony Harrison _ ?”

Saboo turned his vitriol on Naboo. “It would appear so. And  _ you  _ should be more careful. Losing a magical familiar, especially on a world as hostile and primitive as Earth, is extremely dangerous. You should be punished to the fullest extent of the Shaman Law.” 

“That would mean the Shamanic Gulag,” giggled Kirk excitedly, a look of sheer malice in his wide, childlike eyes.

Naboo grimaced. The Gulag was the worst place he could imagine. Drugs and alcohol (and, for some reason, also rollerblading), were expressly prohibited in the Gulag. One had to attend twice-daily therapy sessions, and, even  _ worse _ than therapy, the rest of their time was spent weaving potholders and watching bad daytime television. There was no way he could survive a trip to the gulag without losing his mind. “Look,” Naboo lisped, trying to reason with his fellow shaman, “I haven’t  _ lost _ him yet. He’s still out there... somewhere. I just have to find him.” He narrowed his eyes at the rest of the Council. “That’s why I called you lot.”

Naboo took a deep, steadying pull of the hookah before continuing. “I am out of my depth here, and I knew I needed to call upon the wisest and most powerful Shaman in the multiverse.” He choked on the words a little, bile rising in his throat as he was unused to kissing so much ass all at once. Thinking back to a movie he saw, he continued. “You must see Bollo safely delivered back to me. This is our most desperate hour. Help me, Shaman Council, you’re my only hope.” 

Quoting Princess Leia appeared to have the desired effect.

“Well,” Dennis said, puffing up slightly with pride, “I  _ am _ a strong and powerful wizard, this is true...”

“Don’t tell me you insipid loons are falling for this,” Saboo huffed indignantly. “He’s just manipulating you into helping him instead of punishing him.”

“I am a just and honest leader, reluctant to dole out undue punishment, as you know, Saboo,” replied Dennis. 

“You’re reluctant to do anything that requires you to put on your big boy pants, sire,” spat Saboo. “What kind of example is this setting for the Order of Shaman in the known multiverse?”

“There’s only a handful of us,” added Tony Harrison quietly. 

“You stay out of this, you pink pillock.” 

“We shall put it to a vote,” said Dennis grandly. “All in favour of helping Naboo find Bollo, say aye.” 

Tony Harrison raised a tentacle and said, “Aye.” 

Kirk was in the corner ignoring everything in favor of studying the utterly hypnotic wallpaper in Naboo’s kiosk. 

“All in favor of punishment," Dennis intoned, "say aye.” 

Saboo said, “Aye.” 

“It appears we have reached an impasse,” sighed Dennis. 

“Your vote would be the tie-breaker,” Saboo reminded him. 

Naboo did his best to bat his eyelashes at Dennis without vomiting a little inside his mouth. 

“Very well,” said Dennis after uncomfortably long moments. “We shall assist Naboo for one Earth day, or ninety Xooberonian minutes. If by the end of that time Bollo the Familiar remains unfound, Naboo shall be punished.” 

Saboo sighed, his disappointment at the lack of punishment palpable, while Naboo released the breath he’d been holding. 

“Summon Tom Selleck and his ugly wife,” crowed Tony Harrison. “They work at the zoo with you, right Naboo?”

Naboo nodded. “Don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

Without breaking his intense concentration on the wallpaper, Kirk intoned, “It is very relevant, Naboolio. The Earth people’s knowledge of the habits and habitats of the great apes will make them invaluable to the investigation!” 

Dennis blanched. “That is strictly against protocol. It’s not our custom to involve mortals with our business--”

“This, sir, is an outrage!” Tony Harrison protested. “You didn’t have a problem involving mortals with official Shaman Business last week, when we needed to offload a batch of DMT...”

“You’re right,” lisped Naboo. It pained him to agree with Tony Harrison, who was easily the most deranged member of the Shaman Council. In a group that included Kirk, that was really saying something. He swallowed his pride and also a mouthful of marijuana smoke, which helped the pride-swallowing go down more easily. “If we only have one day to find Bollo, we’re going to need all the help we can get. Might as well dragoon a couple of Earth locals.” 

Naboo uncovered his crystal ball and waved his hands above the magical implement, chanting an incomprehensibly-lisped intonation. One couldn’t summon familiars with crystal balls, but it did work well for wayward earthlings. The clear crystal grew foggy with a white mist that slowly focused into an image of the two men in question. Vince and Howard were standing next to the concession stand, Vince’s hands full of about six different icy treats while Howard clutched a rapidly-melting Bovril popsicle. “They’re at the ice cream stand. I’ll need to summon them.”

He closed his eyes, concentrating. Suddenly, the voice of Bob Fossil, the psychotic head zookeeper, blared over the PA system. “Howard Moon, get your disaster-bastard ass to Naboo’s kiosk RIGHT NOW. And bring Vince with you. DO IT NOW OR I’LL BE FORCED TO WAX YOUR EARS!” 

Several minutes later, the two men walked through the door. Vince had eaten four of his six ice cream bars, and was shoving the last two into his mouth while Howard’s Bovril popsicle had melted into a brown stain on the sleeve of his green keeper jacket.

As soon as the two zookeepers entered the kiosk, the thick smoke went straight to their heads again, and they began an insipid crimp about magic men from outer space punctuated with fits of giggles. 

Naboo covertly conjured a pair of cymbals, which he hid in the oversized, draping sleeves of his purple robe as he approached the two stoned idiots. He waited until he was right in front of them, then violently clashed the cymbals together right under their noses, startling Vince and Howard, interrupting their giggling fit and causing the two men to drop their melting ice cream to clap their hands over their ears. 

“Oi, Naboo, what gives?” Vince whined. “You made me drop my ice cream!”

“My tinnitus,” Howard moaned, clutching his head in pain.

“Listen up, ballbags,” Naboo lisped. “We’re going on a gorilla hunt, and since my fellow shaman are not trained in the habits and handling of large, often intoxicated, great apes, you two knobheads are coming with us.”

The two zookeepers gaped uncomprehendingly. 

Finally, Tony Harrison scuttled across the floor, brandishing a small, brown bottle in his flailing tentacles. “Come on, you two, wake up and smell the poppers! Saboo, lift me up!”

When Saboo lifted Tony Harrison to eye level, Vince shrieked. The alien lifeform whose features bore a curious resemblance to his own shoved the bottle under his nose. 

Then Howard, whose marijuana-blunted senses were slow to react, began to panic. Luckily, Tony Harrison managed to dose him quickly.

After the poppers, Vince and Howard looked more dazed and confused than ever. Naboo took advantage of this by herding the men out of the kiosk while Dennis and Kirk unfurled the magic carpet behind them. The magical transportation device hovered a foot above the ground, hitting Vince and Howard in the back of their shins and forcing them to topple backwards onto the carpet into a boneless sprawl.

“Brace yourselves,” Naboo warned, nudging the two poppered and confused zookeepers upright. “This thing travels faster than light.”

“Where are we going?” Howard wondered aloud, still unsure what, precisely, was happening.

“Well, the gorillas said I woke up Bollo to play poker at the pub, and yesterday was a Tuesday? The Chiffon Carrot has poker night on Tuesdays, so...”

“It is settled,” Dennis said, pompously assuming a position at the head of the carpet. He made a dramatic gesture with his arms, the excess fabric of his oversized sleeves slapping Howard in the face. “To the Chiffon Carrot!”

Before Howard could get upset about that, the carpet accelerated at an impossible speed. The violence of the takeoff made Vince topple into his arms. He didn’t even have a chance to shout “Don’t touch me!” before the carpet, as well as its motley crew of shaman and zookeepers, materialized in front of the Chiffon Carrot, a dilapidated old pub less than a mile from the Zooniverse. 

As soon as they walked in, Naboo spotted a group of men around a table in the back, two of whom were wearing vaguely familiar matching magenta jackets. He gave Saboo a knowing look, and the pair started making their way to the back of the pub. 

Sitting around the table was a man with a luxuriant golden beard, two very ordinary-looking blokes in the magenta jackets, a man with frizzy hair wearing a chartreuse safari suit that was two sizes too small, and a strangely-familiar man with a jeweled turban and a gold shaman’s robe beside them.

Naboo recognized the man--it was his smoking buddy Pete, who wasn’t a shaman (he worked at Dixon’s). “Oi, Pete! What’re you doing here?”

“Oh, erm,” stammered Pete, looking nervously at the floor, “just discussing a business deal with these guys.” 

“Yeah?” said Naboo, his ire rising. “And who are ‘these guys’?”

The bearded man stood and declared himself with such pomposity that even Dennis seemed cowed by it. “My name is Nixon Cambridge and I own the Hackney Municipal Zoo.” 

Vince and Howard exchanged a look of incredulity. It was like they’d stepped off the magic carpet, which was weird enough on its own, into the mirrorverse. They were, essentially, looking at alternate versions of Bainbridge, Fossil, and themselves, with Naboo’s stoned friend Pete from Dixon’s as the only constant between the two realities.

“What  _ was  _ that shit Tony Harrison gave us?” Vince whispered to Howard, his voice fearful as he ran a nervous hand through his hair.

Before Howard could answer, Nixon continued, “These are my chief zookeepers, Lance Dior and Harold Boon, and the zoo General Manager, Rob Docile,” he said, indicating the men in matching pink jackets and the frizzy-haired man in the too-small safari suit.

Those pleasantries out of the way, Naboo laid into Pete. “How dare you, Pete, I thought  _ I  _ was your only zoo friend.” 

“Sorry, mate,” replied Pete, looking duly shamed. "You're still my only shaman friend."

Naboo glared, and Dennis stepped forward, remembering his role as the so-called leader of the so-called Council of Shaman. It was his duty to initiate diplomatic relations with the crew of rival zookeepers. “Gentlemen,” he said, clapping his hands, “my associate Naboo here has misplaced his gorilla.” 

“His what?” Rob Docile, the Fossil lookalike, asked. 

“Gorilla,” Dennis repeated. 

Rob Docile stared back at him, uncomprehending.

“The long-armed squashy-face hairy guy,” supplied Nixon Cambridge. 

“Oh, right,” Bob Fossil’s doppelganger Rob Docile said as understanding dawned on him. 

“Have you seen a gorilla?” repeated Dennis. 

One of the zookeepers in pink, a short-ish young man with unordinary, blonde hair, and a nametag that read, “Dior” snidely said, “Maybe we did, and maybe we didn’t. What’s it to you?”

His counterpart, a tall man with alarmingly small eyes, even smaller than Howard’s, nodded his agreement. 

“That’s not just any gorilla,” lisped Naboo. “He’s… special. And he needs to come back to the Zooniverse as soon as possible.” 

The two rival zookeepers and their gang snickered at that. 

“Look, I don’t know what you’re insinuating,” Harold Boon, the Howard-lookalike, said snidely, “but my fellow zookeeper and I are trained professionals. We are more than capable of caring for a special-needs gorilla.”

“We have an ocelot with Down’s syndrome and a macaque with palsy,” Lance agreed. 

“You don’t understand,” Dennis said cautiously, “this isn’t just  _ any _ gorilla with special needs. Bollo is a shaman’s familiar, which, according to The Shamanic Law, Code C, Article 34, makes him a potentially dangerous magical artifact--”

“Look, ever since they taught that one gorilla sign language, everyone thinks their ape is  _ special _ ,” Lance Dior, who resembled Vince to a curious degree save for low height and mousy blonde color of his hair, said. “But  _ you’re _ the one who tried to bluff with a pair of threes.”

“You lost that ape fair and square, Naboo,” Nixon Cambridge said, stroking his beard. 

“What are we s’posed to do now?” Naboo whispered to Dennis. The Head Shaman’s reply was cut off when one of the keepers started talking.

“Now that you mention it... there is something, uh, strange about your gorilla,” Harold Boon said.

“He  _ means _ ,” the Fossil lookalike said, “that your long-armed squashy-faced hairy-backed man-friend is  _ defective _ .”

“He’s been sweaty and scratchy and verbally abused us when we brought him his bananas,” Lance Dior said.

“Well,” asked Naboo, “did you give him his uppers this morning?”

“ _ Uppers?” _ Nixon Cambridge asked incredulously.

“Well,” Naboo began, “Bollo usually likes to take 120mg of Adderall, but if you haven’t got any of that, cocaine or methamphetamine works, too--”

“It is against the policies of our zoo to give the animals  _ illegal drugs,"  _ Cambridge said, aghast. 

Naboo was beginning to look distressed. “Wait, not even weed?” 

“Them’s the rules,” Rob Docile said.

Naboo went pale. “Of course there’s ‘something wrong with him’, you knobheads! He’s in  _ withdrawal!” _ This could be bad, very bad, indeed--not just for Bollo, but for the entire space-time continuum. 

“Seems like it was a fortuitous turn of events that you gambled away your ape,” sniffed Nixon Cambridge. “Of course, my rival, Bainbridge, can’t properly run his own zoo or be trusted to hire keepers worth their salt--” 

“Oi!” Vince interrupted, pushing forward towards Nixon Cambridge until Howard grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and pulled him back, “your zoo might be fancier than ours, but you don’t know nuffink about carin’ for a  _ magical _ gorilla. Bollo’s a shaman’s familiar!”

“Which means he’s got magic,” Dennis said.

“Which means he needs drugs!” Naboo shouted. The rest of the patrons of the pub, mostly older, worn-looking men sitting on stools at the bar, turned to look at the group causing such a commotion, then turned back to their drinks.

“Luckily, your gorilla will receive the proper care it needs at our zoo," Cambridge said. “He’s being held in quarantine where he’ll detox and there’ll be no more of this ‘magical ape’ nonsense. He will go on display, maybe even be part of our breeding program, and will be an ambassador for his species.” 

Vince surged forward, and Howard tightened his grip on his sleeve. He didn’t stop struggling until Howard whispered, “Easy, little man.” 

“Bollo can’t be an ambassador, and he certainly can’t be a father,” muttered Naboo to himself. "He's got dreams! Bollo wants to be a DJ, not a dad!"

“I think it’s time we reconvene,” said Dennis authoritatively. “Gentlemen, it was a pleasure. Shaman, humans, let’s go.” 

At a loss of what else to do, the disgruntled crew from the Zooniverse shuffled out of the pub and back to the carpet, where Tony Harrison and Kirk were playing a game of “fuck, marry, kill” with the unsuspecting passersby. 

“Where’s the thing?” asked Kirk without an ounce of caring in his voice. 

“We need to come up with a plan,” said Dennis. “Tony Harrison, we need your gift for strategy. But first, we need someplace to meet that’s bigger than Naboo’s pitiful little rolling cart.” 

“We can go back to the keeper’s hut…?” suggested Howard, but it sounded like a question rather than an answer. 

“That’ll work. We’ll need food first. Food and drugs,” lisped Naboo. Ten minutes of arguing over “filthy terran cuisine” ensued, but pizza won out. Even intergalactic magic men could agree that pizza was probably the height of human innovation. 

The windows of the keeper’s hut were aglow into the wee hours of the night, long past when most of the animals were asleep in their enclosures. Food was consumed, substances smoked, maps and blueprints obtained, ideas conceived and binned in rapid succession, until a plan was formulated, a plan that was so cleverly diabolical (or so incredibly stupid) that it could not possibly fail.

And thus, when morning came, five shaman and one rather misshapen horse began their procession to the rival zoo.

“Why do I have to be the horse’s arse?” whined Vince, his voice stuffy and muffled from inside the dark, musty horse costume. 

“Because,” replied Howard, trying his best to stay hunched over and still see out of the tiny eye holes, “I’m the one who bothered looking at the schematics since you said you don’t read maps. I need to lead us to the quarantine area so we can find Bollo and get back out.” 

Vince sighed. It wasn’t fair that they finally got to do the two-person horse costume and he had to bring up the rear, literally. But there was one positive thing about being the horse’s arse: it meant that he had a perfect close-up view of  _ Howard’s  _ arse, which was round and pumpkin-esque even in the horrible frumpy cords he insisted on wearing.

Unfortunately, every time Vince tried to give Howard a grope, Howard kicked him, so he grudgingly kept his hands to himself. Luckily, he didn’t have to keep his  _ eyes _ to himself, and he was taking full advantage of the situation.

Kirk led the “horse” to the employee entrance of the Hackney Municipal Zoo, followed closely by the rest of the shaman as they approached the gate. Dennis was dressed in a strange mixture of Howard’s clothes (which, strangely, had fit him perfectly) and a few frumpy, Regency-Era looking garments of his own, whereas Naboo was clad in a long skirt and wearing lip gloss as well as more eyeliner than usual (courtesy of Vince, of course), which made him look like a rather short woman. Saboo wore a grey wig, pantyhose, and carried a large black leather satchel which contained Tony Harrison.

The security guard on duty was all crisp uniform and overdeveloped sense of duty when he said, “Look here, boy, you can’t bring your own animals into the zoo.” 

Kirk sniffled and tried to look pathetic, his big blue eyes watering theatrically. “Please, sir,” he said, his voice high and sympathetic, “my horse is very ill and must see a doctor.” 

“That’s what country vets are for,” the guard chided. “You can’t bring a tired old farm animal to a zoological park such as this.”

Dennis put a paternal hand on Kirk’s shoulder. “Please, sir, have mercy. Bessie here is my son’s only friend, and the country vet said he could not help us... but perhaps you can?” 

Naboo nodded imploringly, while Saboo did his best impression of a grumpy old lady forced to tag along.

Kirk forced his bottom lip to tremble as pleasure swept through him-- he enjoyed  _ almost  _ nothing as much as manipulating other species into doing whatever he wanted by being cute. “Please… I came all this way. Can’t a vet come talk to me even for just a moment? Sir?” 

The guard looked at the angelic blonde boy and sighed deeply, knowing he was being foolishly sentimental. But he just couldn’t bring himself to get brusque with a child on the verge of tears. He spoke into the walkie-talkie, “Could someone from Veterinary come to the employee entrance? I need a little backup.” 

“10-4,” came the tinny reply. The security guard turned back to Kirk and his oddly lumpy horse. 

“Someone’s on their way,” he said nonchalantly. 

Kirk’s face lit up, his eyes positively glittering. “Oh,  _ thank you,  _ Sir! Thank you!” He turned to the horse and patted Howard’s head. “Hear that, Bess? Someone’s coming to look at you after all!” 

Howard made a braying sound and tossed his head. The effect was rather unsettling--to the onlookers, the horse looked like it was having a seizure.

Vince was dying to scratch his nose but he knew if he moved his arm, there’d be a very obvious dip in Bess’s back, and he didn’t want to give them away when they were so close to getting in. 

A few moments later, the gate opened. Two veterinarians stepped through, one a pretty young girl with a long blonde ponytail; the other was a grizzled, middle-aged man whose aggressive combover did nothing to conceal his balding pate. The younger veterinarian turned and asked the guard, “What’s all this about backup?”

“This lad’s got a sick horse,” the guard explained. “I tried to tell him he can’t just use the zoo as his own personal vet’s office, but--”

“Making us do your job for you again, aren’t you, Henry?” The veterinarian patted the horse’s head, causing Howard to make the jerky head movement again. Kirk looked up with a trembling lip and tear-filled eyes. Though she knew that she should send the boy off with a referral to the nearest country vet, she found herself unable to disappoint such a small, innocent-looking child, especially one so clearly distraught about his beloved pet.

Before she could finish asking, “And what seems to be the problem?” Vince squeezed his eyes shut and sneezed. Howard tried to cover it by nickering but there was no point. 

“Did--did your horse just sneeze out of its, erm, rear?” asked the vet, eyes wide with worry. Howard and Vince cringed inside the horse costume, worrying that the gig was up before it had even begun.

“Yes,” nodded Kirk, intuiting the situation immediately. “It’s quite serious. Keeps happening.” He batted his eyes innocently. 

“That’s why we brought Bessie to you,” Naboo trilled in voice several octaves above his natural pitch. “Everyone knows you’re the best zoo in London...”

Vince and Howard held their tongues. It wouldn’t do to scrap the whole plan just to defend the Zooniverse, which, despite their pride in their work, was not exactly a normal, functioning zoo.

“Good God, that  _ is  _ serious,” said the lady vet. “You had better come along with me, after all. We might have a medical anomaly on our hands. At the very least, it’d make a fascinating research paper for the London Zoological Journal. What’s your name, little boy?”

“Howard,” replied Kirk deviously. Howard groaned, then tried to cover the sound with a whinny, ultimately making a noise that made the horse sound even more ill. 

“Follow me,” the young veterinarian said, gesturing to the group. Kirk, Naboo, and Dennis followed her with Vince and Howard in tow.

Unfortunately, when Saboo tried to tag along, the balding vet blocked his way. “Immediate family only, at least until the patient has been stabilized and approved for visitors,” he warned.

“I  _ am  _ family,” said Saboo, not bothering to change his voice. 

The veterinarian looked nonplussed, and closed the door behind him, right in Saboo’s face. 

The lady veterinarian led Kirk, Dennis, Naboo, and the “horse” into the entrance of the zoo hospital. Once inside, she led them down a short hallway, then stopped outside a set of double doors. “Wait here while I get some equipment for the exam,” she instructed. 

As soon as she’d left to gather her gear, Kirk helped Howard shuck the horse’s head. 

“Way to go, you utter idiot,” he groused at Vince. 

“I’m sorry!” whined Vince as he stepped out of the back half of the horse. “That costume is so dusty and manky, it’s got me hay fever acting up.” 

“Shut up,” said Naboo, peeling off his wig and replacing his turban. “We need to get out and find Bollo. Vince, here.” Naboo reached into the rucksack Kirk had been carrying and produced two near-perfect replicas of the Hackney Zoo’s magenta jackets, which were Vince’s contribution to the heist as fashion consultant and tailor extraordinaire. He’d wanted to make jackets for everyone involved in the heist, but due to time constraints had only been able to finish two: one for himself and one for Howard. Honestly, he was relieved. The idea of sewing a small magenta jacket for a pink, many-armed alien was a fashion challenge even Vince wasn’t ready to face. 

Vince and Howard put on the magenta jackets while Kirk looked down the hall, prepared to make his exit. 

“How are you getting out?” asked Howard as he zipped the jacket. It fit like a glove. 

“Same way I got in,” replied Kirk nonchalantly. “If someone asks I’ll say I needed air or look small and sad and tell them I got lost.” He flashed a devilish smile at the pair and darted out into the corridor of the quarantine building. 

Howard shook his head in disbelief. “He’s…”

“Terrifying?” supplied Vince. 

“Yes, definitely that.” 

Dennis adjusted his cravat and Naboo smoothed his bohemian skirts as they went over the plan one more time with Vince and Howard. “Right,” lisped Naboo. “You two go left, we’ll go right. We’ll locate the store of drugs so we can revive Bollo. Howard, since you memorized the map, when you and Vince find Bollo, Saboo and Tony Harrison will throw the lights and that’s our cue to get out. Got it?”

“Got it,” answered Vince as Howard interrupted. 

“They didn’t let Saboo and Tony Harrison in,” he stated. 

“Tony Harrison has a gift for strategy,” intoned Dennis. “I’m sure they will think of something.”

“In the meantime, we go on with the plan,” Naboo said seriously as he turned to check that the exit was clear. 

“I still can’t believe you’re going out there dressed like that,” muttered Vince sadly, shaking his head. “No one on earth dresses like this.” 

“We’re magic men from outer space,” deadpanned Naboo. “It’ll be fine.” With that, he turned towards the door. 

“Good luck,” said Dennis with gravitas, as he and Naboo snuck out and made their way right down the corridor. 

Vince was still preening as he zipped up the magenta zookeeper jacket that read “Dior” on the name tag. “How’d I do?” he asked, throwing a flirtatious shape as he tested the fit of the jacket. “Looks pretty good, yeah? Though the color’s all wrong, doesn’t suit me at all.”

Howard had to disagree. The bright pink jacket made Vince’s blue eyes look brighter and bluer than ever, which made Howard’s chest ache if he looked too long. He’d  _ thought  _ that once he’d gotten his feelings out there, he’d be able to move on, whether or not Vince felt the same way, but evidently, Howard was as wrong about that as he’d been wrong about Vince reciprocating in the first place. Plus, he was still sore that his heartfelt confession had been interrupted by this whole mess, and now he was sad and sleep-deprived and caught up in the middle of a terrible heist with magic men from outer space. 

“You look  _ fine, _ ” said Howard. It came out a bit shorter, crueler, than he’d meant, and Vince’s eyes flashed with something that looked like... hurt? No, Howard was probably just imagining things again. Best not to think about that. “Come on, we need to find Bollo.” 

Vince rolled his eyes, huffing angrily, and muttering “yeah, woteva” under his breath as he zipped up his jacket and made his way past Howard to peer into the hallway of the quarantine area. Not only had he felt woefully left out during the planning process, having been treated as little better than a table busser while the Shaman and Howard had crafted the brilliant plan, Howard wasn’t even appreciative of this  _ one  _ thing Vince had been able to contribute. The jackets, Vince thought, were perfect replicas of the ones worn by Dior and Boon, and thus integral to the success of their heist, but Howard hadn’t complimented even once, not even on the excellent fit or the fine quality of the fabric.

Not only that, but after their conversation had gotten interrupted yesterday by Naboo’s case of the missing ape, Howard had been avoiding him, or so it seemed to Vince. Howard’s eyes had gone all shifty and he was avoiding eye contact even more than usual, plus he’d been tetchier than usual with his whole “don’t-touch-me” thing. Vince wanted to ask him why he was acting so standoffish now that they’d finally confessed their long-repressed feelings for one another, but they had to rescue Bollo first, then he and Howard would be able to figure out… whatever  _ this  _ was. 

Vince sighed, shaking the unpleasant thoughts from his mind, then peeked his head out into the hallway to make sure the coast was clear. It appeared that it was, so he motioned for Howard to follow him into the hallway. 

They walked silently for a bit. Most of the rooms off the main hallway seemed to be administrative offices or storage, with no sign of Bollo or any other animals.

“I don’t think we’re going to find Bollo over here,” Vince said.

“I’m telling you, Vince, we have to go past these offices before we find the quarantine area,” Howard replied.

“Are you sure you had that map memorized right?”

“Yes, I’m sure, Vince!”

They turned down another hallway, past another row of administrative offices.

A lilting female voice called to them from behind, and they froze. “Oi, Lance! Wait up!” 

Vince inhaled through his nose, then turned to face the newcomer, a smile plastered on his face. “All right?” he greeted. 

The voice belonged to a short girl who was also wearing a magenta zookeeper’s jacket, her hair in bunches and her eyes hidden behind thick spectacles. “Wow, Lance, your hair looks well cool!” 

Vince fluffed his own hair. “Cheers, trying something new, you know.” 

The girl giggled nervously, coiling her finger around the end of her pigtail. “Yeah, just needed to check in and see if that new gorilla we got in needed any more tramadazole to get through his withdrawals?” she asked.

“Hmm,” Vince said, “we should probably check in on him, just to be sure.” He flashed the girl a brilliant smile. “Didn’t they say they were moving Bollo--er, the gorilla?”

The girl looked confused. “No, I don’t think so. He’s still in the quarantine room on the second floor.”

“Which would be where exactly?”

Now she looked at Vince worriedly. “You know, room 209?”

“Huh,” Vince said, flashing another one of his brilliant, flirtatious smiles her way, “I forgot how to get there. Think all the hair dye has gone to my head. Mind telling me how to find in, again?”

“Doesn’t Harold know?”

Vince nudged Howard in the side, making Howard flinch. “Oh, uh, I dyed my hair too.”

“But it looks the same as it always does,” the girl said.

“Yeah,” Howard said, “I dyed it the same color.”

The girl looked like she was going to say something about that, but then Vince put a hand on her shoulder. She flushed and said, “Oh, well, down the hall, make a right, go up the stairs, follow the hallway to the end.”

“Cool, thanks,” Vince said. He was about to turn and leave when the girl closed her hand around his wrist, refusing to let him go.

Vince wanted to move on as quickly as possible. He’d hoped he and Howard could pass for Lance and Harold at a distance, but such prolonged exposure up close was making him a little nervous. “Can I, er, do something for you?” 

“Oh, just wanted to see if you were coming out tonight after work,” said the girl, who shot a glance at Howard. 

“What about Harold?” Vince asked.

The girl grimaced. “Harold can come too, I guess.” 

Howard wanted to say something about how he didn’t want to go anyway, but Vince cut him off. “Oh, yeah,” Vince said, flashing a smile. “We’ll be there. But we’ve got to run now, y’know, lots of work to do.” 

“Great! See you guys later then. Bye, Lance.” She turned to walk away, then turned back. “And Harold,” she muttered scornfully, then scuttled down the sterile hallway.

Vince laughed to himself. “Memorized the map, Howard?” he asked, raising his eyebrows jokingly, and Howard blustered the whole way to the  _ actual  _ quarantine section of the animal hospital.

Meanwhile, back at the employee entrance, Saboo was growing more irritable by the moment. How anyone walked around in nylons he had no idea. Leave it to Earth to come up with such a torturous, shite idea and impose it on their females. 

Mere seconds after watching his supposed “family” sneak inside, an idea dawned on Saboo. A horrible, terrible idea. 

He approached the security guard and found him in conversation with the balding vet. “Excuse me,” he asked, pitching his voice higher than necessary. “I too have a sick pet, if my dunce of a son didn’t mention?”

“Look, lady,” said the security guard brusquely, “no more sick animals, alright? Take it to a vet.” 

“I think,” said Saboo, unfastening the clasp on his black handbag, “that you’d be very interested to see  _ this. _ ” He tore open the handbag, revealing a rather pale looking Tony Harrison. 

“Oooohhh my  _ word,  _ it’s stuffy in here! Oh, hello,” Tony Harrison grinned up at the security guard and the vet. “Did you get us caught, Saboo? You utter cumberground, how’re we--” 

“My God,” the vet interrupted. “Is that…is that a…  _ talking  _ octopus?”   


“Yes, that is  _ exactly  _ what it is,” said Saboo, all attempts at a feminine Nana voice forgotten. 

“Sweet Jesus,” exclaimed the security guard. “Are you gonna take that through?” he asked the vet. 

The vet nodded. “This is completely bizarre. An anomaly. Ma’am, you may have a new species here,” the vet rambled breathlessly. “Please allow me to take it back to the marine veterinary offices.” 

“It’s all yours,” said Saboo, a dark gleam in his eye. He snapped shut the handbag and gave it to the vet.

And with that, the vet took the handbag and Tony Harrison was whisked into the Hackney Zoo, muffled cries of “an outrage” coming from within the black bag. 

The security guard tried to follow the vet to the zoo hospital, hot on the heels of the newly discovered species of octopus. Saboo was able to sneak in easily, as the man was so distracted by the biological anomaly that was Tony Harrison that he neglected to shut the door behind him.

Saboo grinned. It was a terrible sight to see. As he was relieved of Tony Harrison, he was relieved of any accountability regarding his part in the Plan. Not that he was going to shirk his duty, no--only perv on the zookeepers for a bit before fulfilling his responsibilities....

Upon reaching the marine lab, the vet plunked the handbag down on an examining table. He’d ditched the security guard by citing nonexistent laws about animal healthcare privacy law, unwilling to share his newfound triumph with anyone. He chuckled to himself, imagining the sheer amounts of money he was going to make off this creature.  _ A talking octopus!  _ His research so far had indicated that octopi almost certainly had some kind of communication system as complex as language, but he'd never imagined discovering such an undeniable proof of his hypothesis! 

For a brief moment he considered the old woman who’d brought it in, but dismissed the thought. She was so senile she probably didn’t even realize how extraordinary her pet octopus was. 

The zoo had been engaged in an ongoing cephalopod study, and the vet couldn’t wait to introduce the talking octopus to the tank of octopi set aside for breeding. He could start a whole colony of speaking octopi! He opened the handbag, and was immediately assaulted by language so foul it made him gag.

“Hey, easy there, little fella,” coaxed the vet.

“How dare you, I’m a higher being!" Tony Harrison shouted "I’m a CBE, you pudding-brained dalcop!” 

“All right, all right, sorry!” said the vet defensively. “What, erm… what should I call you?”

“Come closer,” said Tony Harrison, making his wide, strangely blue eyes even wider and more compelling. The vet leaned down closer to Tony Harrison, who proceeded to jab the vet with a syringe full of tranquilizer. Then the vet slumped to the floor and Tony Harrison crawled out of the handbag, calling, “Saboo? Saboo? You son of a cocksucking whore, I’ll have you for this! Abandoning me in the middle of our great heist! You’ll rue the day, Saboo!” 

He scuttled across the exam table, taking in his surroundings and trying to decide how to escape from this when he noticed the tank of plump, pink octopi sitting close by. They were watching him with curious eyes. 

It is a well-known fact that the octopus is one of the most intelligent of all species on Earth. They are so intelligent that humans have not even begun to poke the depths of their brilliance, and so humans had no way of knowing that the octopuses in the tank were, at that moment, communicating telepathically with a higher being from outer space. 

“Oh, hello,” greeted Tony Harrison. 

The octopi replied by using it's bioluminescence to flash pink. 

“Well, I’d say the same for you,” replied Tony Harrison, grinning seductively. “You are one hot shape!” 

Silence filled the lab as the octopi flashed colors excitedly. 

Tony Harrison understood exactly what it meant. “No bones, eh? So when you get up inside someone, you  _ really  _ get up inside them?” 

More silence, more bioluminescence. 

The sound of scuttling, a small  _ splash,  _ and assorted noises of aliens getting off with octopuses filled the lab as the vet lay on the lab floor, stoned on tranquilizers and oblivious to the cephalopod orgy occurring just a few feet above his slumbering form.

Naboo and Dennis wandered through the Byzantine maze of hallways within the zoo hospital on their quest to discover where the Hackney Zoo kept their zoo drugs. So far, none of the rooms had yielded anything interesting: just a bunch of storage closets full of medical devices and cleaning supplies. The most interesting was a room that was filled with dung shovels of various sizes and styles.

The loot wasn’t even good enough to  _ steal _ , Naboo thought uncharitably as he shut the door on the dung shovel room. For a moment, he considered grabbling a few dung shovels for Howard and Vince, who spent rather a lot of their time shoveling dung but didn’t have nearly the number of options that the keepers at Hackney Zoo did, then almost immediately dismissed the idea as stupid--he wanted to leave plenty of room in his pockets for looting the zoo drugs,  _ if _ they ever found them.

“We’re never going to find Bollo,” lisped Naboo despairingly. “It’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack.” 

“Do not fret, Naboo. The situation has not reached such dire levels yet.” Dennis opened the next door and gave a wholly annoying smile. “Speaking of haystacks…” 

Naboo peeked into the room. It was full of hay. Naboo wanted to scream. 

“Say, Naboo,” said Dennis, still wearing a shit-eating grin, “fancy a roll in the hay?” 

Naboo wished he’d grabbed those shovels after all, so he could beat Dennis the Head Shaman over the head with it then bury him alive. 

Hindsight, as they say, is always 20/20.

Trying not to let his distaste show, Naboo growled, “I’m telling your wife you said that.”

“Ah, Naboo, I was just... joking?” Dennis said unconvincingly. 

“Keep it in your pants, creep,” Naboo said, letting the door slam behind him.

Unfortunately, two female veterinarians, wearing long lab coats and sanitary gloves, turned the corner just as he and Dennis shut the door.

The two vets stopped and stared. “Hey, like, are you supposed to be here?”

“Or are you supposed to be in the 1800s?” her companion laughed.

Naboo raised an arm, letting the sleeves of his peasant blouse billow for effect. The two veterinarians were oblivious as Naboo muttered an incantation under his breath, still laughing when the bolt of light hit them. 

In an instant, the vets’ expressions went vacant. Dennis reopened the door to the hay room, and Naboo pushed the two stunned women through the door, then Dennis released the door and let it slam shut. Naboo muttered a locking spell that would resist any Earthly lockpicking devices for exactly four hours. 

“Excellent,” said Dennis, patting Naboo on the shoulder. “Really first rate spellwork. You will receive a commendation at the next meeting for that.” 

“Whatever,” muttered Naboo. He was hungry--doing spellwork like that always gave him the munchies. “Let’s find Bollo, yeah...?”

He and Dennis walked down the hall, checking rooms as they went. Nothing interesting, just some microscopes, and an X-ray machine big enough for a hippopotamus, until they reached the last room on the left.

The room was secured by an electronic lock, but some quick spellwork disabled it. Naboo peeked in--the room was dark, so he felt for the lightswitch.

Light filled the room, and Naboo’s mouth went dry.  _ Paydirt _ \--there were enough drugs here to knock out a whole army of elephants. Literally, considering there were at least 3 entire liters of elephant tranquilizer on the shelf.

Saboo wandered the grounds, curling his lip in disgust at the grossness of humanity. He’d left the tranquilizer syringes in the handbag with Tony Harrison, so he’d need to rely on brute force to gain entry to the main security hut. That might take energy. It might even make him hungry. 

He stopped at the concession stand and ordered pizza, paid  _ nothing,  _ then followed signs until he found one that read, “SECURITY: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.” He smirked and muttered, “Challenge accepted,” to himself under his breath as he performed some high-level wordless magic to open the locked door. Inside, the half-asleep security guard blinked up dumbly at the intruder. 

“Right,” said Saboo with authority, setting down his food on the extensive computer console. “ _ Sors, mon ami _ , you’re having a nightmare.” 

The man sputtered and moved towards the phone, but with a mere step, flourish, and skillful application of pressure to a certain point behind the neck, the security guard slumped lifelessly to the floor. Saboo made quick work of extricating himself from the nylons and wig that had been his disguise, and promptly located the party on the bank of monitors. Dennis and Naboo were wandering down one hallway, Vince and Howard in another. On another monitor, Saboo could plainly see where Bollo was being held, but he decided to keep this to himself for the time being. It would be far, far more entertaining to watch everyone sort it out on their own. 

So Saboo propped his feet up on the desk and shoved an entire slice of pizza into his mouth at once, marveling at how such a primitive people could have possibly conceived of something as delicious as the combination of cheese, pepperoni, and tomatoes on bread. Remarkable. 

“That was close, weren’t it, Howard?” Vince asked, exhaling in relief. 

“A bit  _ too  _ close,” replied Howard sharply. “Come on. We haven’t got time to fraternize with the enemy.” He turned on his heel and marched down the corridor, trying to look purposeful even though he had no idea what, exactly, he was hoping to find. 

Vince jogged a little to catch up. “The enemy? Aw, don’t be like that, Howard. She was just a plain-looking girl looking to have some fun with her mates. She didn’t even have any badges on her jacket! But that don’t make her our  _ enemy.  _ We’re all zookeepers, Howard.” 

“Just stay focused,” scolded Howard. “We’re on a mission, and I don’t like it one bit.” 

“Don’t like what?”

“ _ It, _ ” replied Howard with meaning. “All of it.” 

“What is  _ it? _ ” Vince asked, extremely confused.

“You know,” Howard said, even more cryptically, “ _ it. _ ”

Vince stopped short with his hands on his hips. “I don’t know what the hell’s gotten into you, Howard,” Vince said, “but you’ve been acting all weird ever since Naboo told us Bollo was missing.” He looked at Howard critically. “You an’ Bollo haven’t been bummin’ have you? That’s not why you’ve gone all wrong ever since he disappeared?”

“What the hell, Vince?” Howard barked. “Me n’ Bollo can hardly stand each other!” 

“What?” Vince asked. “You can’t hardly blame me. Last time I saw you this out-of-sorts was after Jack Cooper got that restraining order against you.”

Howard looked around shiftily, avoiding eye contact with Vince.

“‘Sides,” Vince said, “you can’t blame me, can you, for being jealous?”

“Wait, you, jealous?” asked Howard, indignation coloring his voice. 

“Well,” Vince said, but he was interrupted by a forlorn call a few doors down. 

“Hey! Anyone there? Hello?” 

The low, raspy voice was familiar to them immediately. 

“Bollo!” cried Vince as he rushed to the door. There, behind a barred door, sat Bollo amongst a few empty banana peels, looking dull-eyed and pathetic in his prisonlike cell. “Bollo! Bollo, are you okay?” Vince stuck his hands through the bars, and Bollo happily met him halfway. 

“Precious Vince, you rescue Bollo!” the ape declared. “Thought I heard your voice. You and ballbag, Howard.” 

Howard rolled his eyes, wanting to vomit at the entire scene. “Yeah, I came up with this plan, you know,” he told Bollo. 

“Bollo not believe Harold,” said the ape. He turned back to Vince, holding the pale hands within his own large simian hands. “Why Harold yelling at Vince? Where Naboo?” he asked. 

“He’s here, too,” said Vince, pointedly ignoring Bollo’s first question. “He called up a bunch of his mates. There’s, like, five of us all here looking for you, Bollo!” 

“Technically, there’s seven of us,” muttered Howard to himself. 

“We’ve got to get you out of here,” said Vince, pulling on the bars experimentally. “How do we open the door?” 

“Get key card,” grunted Bollo. 

“Right,” said Vince as he turned to Howard. “How do we do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Howard sarcastically. “You’re the Amazing Vince Noir, just ask someone to give it to you.” 

“Howard,” started Vince, hurt hanging heavily off the word. 

“No, you go on and charm everyone in the zoo into unlocking the door, go on,” Howard goaded. “We all know you can.” 

Vince stared at Howard, crestfallen.

Bollo’s eyes darted between the two men. “Why Harold be more awful than usual to Vince?” Bollo grunted. 

Vince didn’t answer. He just wrapped his arms across his chest and turned his back to Howard.

“Vince want Bollo hurt Harold for hurting Vince feelings?”

Vince shook his head. “That’s not what we’re here for, Bollo,” he said. “We’re here to break you out of this place, and take you back to the Zooniverse where you belong!”

Howard sighed dramatically. “Get on with it, then,” he said to Vince, gesturing his hands in a rolling motion. “Go magic us a key card so we can break out Bollo.” 

Vince looked around desperately. There was nothing in the corridor that could possibly be used to break a magical gorilla out of quarantine. “You could help, you know, instead of sulking around like a git.” 

Howard was about to say something self-righteous in self-defense when footsteps sounded down the hall.

“Quick, hide!” Howard hissed.

“Where? In the quarantine?” Vince whispered back. “Look, that girl thought we was Lance and Harold; we’ll be fine.” He smoothed down the lines of his jacket, and the two men turned to face whoever was approaching.

The source of the footsteps turned out to be a relieved-looking Dennis and Naboo, whose pockets and various shaman-pouches were overflowing with veterinary-grade pharmaceuticals.

Vince visibly sagged in relief. “All right, Naboo?”

“Why do you look so suspicious, Howard?” Naboo asked.

“I don’t look suspicious,” Howard insisted, turning to Vince. “Do I look suspicious?”

Vince considered a moment. “You look  _ extremely _ suspicious.”

“Naboo,” called Bollo from his prison. “Bollo remember what you did. He never forgive you.” 

“Shut up and eat this,” Naboo said, shoving a handful of pharmaceuticals through the food slot of Bollo’s quarantine chamber. “You’ll feel better.”

Bollo promptly shoved the pills into his mouth, chewing them to make them work more quickly. “Bollo still mad at you.”

“Listen, you don’t know what I’ve been through these last twenty-four hours,” Naboo said. He gestured over his shoulder at Dennis.

Bollo went pale. “Not... the Shaman Council.”

“ _ Yes, _ the Council,” intoned Naboo.

“You should let Bollo die of withdrawal,” Bollo moaned. “Bollo already suffer enough; Shaman Council  _ terrible _ .” 

Dennis puffed out his chest. “The Shaman Council risked their lives to save you--”

Naboo interrupted him. “Yeah, I hate them too, but I was desperate! This is a five-shaman emergency.”

“And two zookeepers,” Howard interjected.

Naboo shot him a dirty look.

The not-so-joyous reunion was interrupted as a door swung open at the end of the corridor. The uncannily familiar faces of Lance Dior and Harold Boon were looking back at Vince, Howard, Dennis, Naboo, and the still-caged Bollo. 

“What’re you doing here?” asked Vince, as though this was  _ his  _ zoo. 

“We  _ work  _ here,” replied Lance, who, Vince noticed, had cut bangs and decidedly attempted to feather his dirty blonde hair.  _ As if,  _ Vince thought to himself. “Come to take the new ape’s blood pressure. But I see we have a ragtag gang of miscreants on our hands, eh, Harold?” 

Vince noticed the collar of a Hawaiian shirt peeking out from under the top of Harold’s magenta zookeeper jacket. The sight of it, more than anything else he’d encountered today, made his blood burn with anger. 

“Yes, sir,” replied Harold, surveying the Zooniverse crew and assorted Shaman like a fox who’d gotten into the henhouse. “Trouble’s a-brewing. We better call this in, eh, Lance?” Harold reached around the side of his beige utility belt to grab for a walkie-talkie. 

Luckily, at that very moment, Saboo had had enough of watching the slightly amusing goings-ons through the screens in the security hut, and, with the deft flick of a few switches, plunged the zoo into darkness, just as the emergency lights flickered to life overhead.

Saboo reached for the last slice of pizza as he watched what looked like a bad facsimile of a fistfight between the rival zookeepers and the Zooniverse droogs (there was an awful lot of jacket-snatching and hair-pulling) on the CCTV. 

Finally, the heavy door to the quarantine popped open. An alarm blared, and Bollo ran out into the dim and strobing hallway. Before the door could shut, Vince and Howard shoved their lookalike zookeepers into the quarantine. Vince held a small white keycard overhead triumphantly as Lance and Harold screamed and pounded on the bars.

“It’s go time,” Saboo murmured to himself, scanning the screens idly for Tony Harrison. Not seeing the pink Shaman on any monitor, Saboo grinned slyly to himself and made for the exit. From here, they just had to meet up at the carpet, and scram. 

Once they were sure that Lance and Harold were well and truly locked in, Howard shrieked a single command into the chaos: “RUN!” Vince, hair askew, a small cut on the bridge of his prominent nose, looked up at Howard with wide eyes and nodded, their earlier tiff forgiven. In times of emergency, Vince looked to one person only: Howard. 

Naboo grabbed Bollo’s arm and they tore their way down the corridor, followed by Vince and Howard with Dennis bringing up the rear and panting excitedly. Alarms were still blaring throughout the darkened zoo when the crass American voice of Rob Docile, Bob Fossil’s doppelganger and head keeper of the Cambridge Zoo, blared over the loudspeakers. “Everyone, remain calm! This is not an emergency, it’s completely normal, everything is totally fine. Will someone make that alarm stop, it’s hurting my brain corral!” 

Once the crew had escaped the labyrinthine quarantine facility, they headed back out the abandoned employee gate, which dumped them into the zoo’s employee car park. 

All the way across the asphalt plane, they could see the small figure of a hovering magic carpet and a child--Kirk. 

With a deep determined breath, the five escapees started the long jog to freedom. Naboo and Bollo brought up the rear. “Wait up!” Naboo hollered. “Me ‘n’ Bollo got short legs!”

Saboo strode out of the front gates of the zoo, largely ignored in favor of the power outage and ensuing chaos. He shut the gates behind him and sauntered over to the carpet where Kirk was waiting dutifully. 

“So, did you make it?” asked Kirk amiably, focused on his flip phone. 

“I’m here, aren’t I?” retorted Saboo. 

“Where’s Tony Harrison?” Kirk asked, not looking up from the screen.

“Hell, I hope,” groused Saboo. He looked across the car park and saw Dennis, Naboo, Bollo, and those two idiot zookeepers prancing across, running like it was an Olympic event towards the carpet. “This is priceless.” 

“I know, I’m recording it for blackmail,” replied Kirk. Saboo smirked, pleased that he’d trained Kirk so well. 

At last, The B-Team (as Saboo had started calling them in his mind) reached the carpet. Bollo was nearly unconscious and Naboo reached into his pockets, haphazardly giving his familiar whatever drugs he could find and mumbling lisped apologies. Dennis had his hands on his knees, two red spots of color high on his sallow cheeks, and looked like he might die. The tall human was fussing over the lady-man’s face, nattering on about disinfectants and plasters. 

“Are… we all… here?” huffed Dennis, collapsing onto the carpet. 

“Yes,” replied Saboo. “We must go if we wish to avoid arrest. I absolutely  _ won’t  _ spend another night in an earth prison, not for something this stupid.” 

“Where… is… Tony Harrison?” asked Dennis. 

Saboo tried to school his features into something akin to regret. “I’m sorry, sire. He did not make it.” 

“Speak for yourself, you eggs Benedict Arnold!” came a horribly familiar nasally voice. 

Disappointment rushed through Saboo so severely he was nearly knocked down by it. He turned, and scuttling across the car park was Tony bloody Harrison, leading a small parade of more pink tentacled creatures, each with what appeared to be a small tank of water over their cephalopod heads. 

“What in the Brian Christ--” 

“I’ve found me long lost cousins!” cajoled Tony Harrison. “They can’t speak yet, but they’re dead clever. Aren’t they cute?”

“Have they got little tanks on their heads?” asked Vince, amusement lighting his eyes as he reached for one of the octopi. It reached a friendly tentacle around Vince’s wrist, flashing colors. “Well cool!”

“They’re flasks we found in the lab,” explained Tony Harrison grinning. “Filled ‘em up with water from the tank and these boneless beauties were ready to march!” 

“This is well fascinating and all, but we’ve just robbed a zoo of one gorilla and a shit-ton of large-animal sedatives and are in the middle of a getaway, so... get your tentacled arses on the damned carpet and let’s get out of here!” Naboo shouted.

Tony Harrison shepherded his new family onto the carpet while Kirk prepared them for takeoff just in time for the recently-revived balding vet and a host of security guards to run out of the employee exit. “Stop! That’s our ape! And those octopi--they’re very valuable; they’re part of a ten-year study! We’ve only six months to go!”

Naboo removed a handful of darts from his robe, unscrewed a vial of elephant tranquilizer, then dipped the dart in the tranquilizer. He fired off the darts in quick succession, hitting the vet and guards, who then dropped to the ground, nodding and satisfied that the hours he’d spent drunkenly tossing darts at the pub had paid off. 

“Finally,” Saboo huffed. “Let’s get out of here.”

With that, the carpet carried the Shaman Council, Bollo, Vince, Howard, and the half-dozen recently-acquired celephapods back to the Zooniverse. 

What seemed like moments later, Howard and Vince found themselves back on the familiar grounds of the Zooniverse, the homey scents of hay and manure greeting them. 

Howard took a deep breath. “It’s good to be back,” he said.

“Yeah,” Vince agreed. “There’s no place like the Zooniverse.”

After having visited the Hackney Zoo, Howard found he had to agree.

Naboo helped Bollo off the carpet. The great ape was still feeling a bit weak from his unjust imprisonment, forced detox, and rapid  _ retox _ . Naboo goaded Dennis into assisting Bollo back to the kiosk where he could receive proper treatment for his withdrawals. Of course, the Shaman Council had invited themselves along, because they were all inveterate drug abusers and the best treatment for drug withdrawal was the liberal administration of drugs.

Saboo spat venom at Tony Harrison and his new “family,” regretting his choice to ditch the pink menace. One Tony Harrison was bad enough. But a coterie of slightly dumber Tony Harrisons? It was an outr--

Saboo did not dare finish the thought. 

Which left Vince and Howard suddenly alone for the first time since their interrupted heart-to-heart conversation over 24 hours ago. Neither man spoke--they didn’t need to--as they headed back to the Zookeeper’s hut, each shucking their magenta disguise jackets as soon as they’d crossed the threshold. 

“Well, that was exciting, wasn’t it, Howard?” Vince asked as he checked the minor cut on his nose. It had stopped bleeding, so he stretched himself out on the sofa as Howard set the kettle. 

“It was that,” conceded Howard. 

“Our first heist!” Vince trilled. “It was fun. Don’t think I’d want to do it again, though. Not unless we were rescuing someone else. And if we  _ do  _ do it again, I don’t want to be the horse’s behind.” 

Howard grinned to himself. “Fair enough, little man.” 

“That was well exciting. What’re we gonna do tomorrow, Howard?” asked Vince. He was behaving as though the last day had never happened, not Howard’s interrupted confession, not Naboo losing Bollo and summoning a cohort of magical men to rescue his ape, nor even the argument he and Howard had had over Vince’s flirtation with the female zookeeper at the Hackney Zoo.

Howard stopped his puttering in the kitchen, the question hanging in the air as he tried to discern whether Vince had  _ really _ forgotten about Howard’s aborted confession yesterday and his jealous outburst earlier today. Perhaps Vince was simply too tired to continue their argument, an exhaustion Howard shared. Heists were exhausting, and Howard resolved to let both issues go without any further resolution.

“The same thing we do every day, I suppose,” answered Howard with a sigh. He regretted his behavior during the heist; had it been really necessary to sulk because Vince was talking to a young zookeeper? He’d only been trying to find the quarantine so they could rescue Bollo, and only after Howard had already gotten them hopelessly lost. He wanted to apologize, but didn’t want to risk reminding Vince what an arse he’d been, especially as he was also still smarting that he’d never gotten a response to his ill-timed confession. But he didn’t want to remind Vince of that either, so Howard said nothing, just stood and sulked at the counter, wringing a dirty mug in his hands.

“Or,” said Vince standing up, toeing off his boots and joining Howard in the kitchenette. “We could pick up where we left off when Naboo interrupted us.” 

Howard startled, almost dropping the mug in his hand into the sink. He placed it carefully back into the stack of dirty dishes, and turned to face Vince. He was shorter without his boots, the crest of his teased black hair coming up to Howard’s chin. “W-what do you mean?” he stuttered.

“You know,” Vince said, teasingly drawing the words out of his mouth, “when you was confessin’ your undying love to me ‘n’ all.”

Howard froze. “I did?” he squeaked.

Vince stepped closer. He was  _ definitely _ in Howard’s personal space, but Howard found he didn’t have it in him to protest. “You said I didn’t have to decide right away. But I’ve already made my choice.” He reached up to smooth Howard’s moustache with his thumb, just stroking the hairs softly. Occasionally his thumbnail scraped gently against Howard’s upper lip, making Howard’s lips part of their own volition. 

Then Vince stood up on his tiptoes and brushed his lips over Howard’s own.

Howard hadn’t meant to open his mouth, but he’d been so surprised that Vince was  _ kissing _ him that his jaw went slack. Vince’s tongue stole between his lips. Howard hadn’t meant to moan when their tongues touched, but he was too shocked to stop himself.

Vince crushed their chests together, his hands roaming up Howard’s back just as Howard began to give himself over to the kiss--at least until a suspiciously-familiar nasal voice stage whispered, “Oh, they’re getting into it now. The little one’s got his hands up the big one’s shirt!” 

“I wanna peek!” a childlike voice said from outside the window. 

Howard and Vince broke apart to see the bulbous form of Tony Harrison perched outside the open window. He grinned cheekily back at the two men, not trying to conceal the fact that he’d been spying on an intimate moment. 

Vince and Howard both rushed to the window and peered out to discover that the entire Shaman Council crouched in the bushes outside the Keeper Hut. The shaman were piled on top of each other in a rather precarious-looking human pyramid: Saboo, Dennis, and Bollo at the base, Naboo and Kirk on the middle tier, and Tony Harrison was perched on top, spying and narrating for them. 

“Do you mind?” chided Howard. 

“We were just having a look!” answered Tony Harrison, waggling nonexistent eyebrows. 

“Well, don’t,” replied Vince as he closed the blinds over the window with an air of finality. Assorted groans and complaints went up from among the Shaman, but eventually they retreated back to the hazy safety of Naboo’s kiosk, leaving the boys well and truly alone. 

“Now, where were we?” asked Vince, looking up prettily at Howard. 

“About… here, I think,” answered Howard, taking Vince’s pointy face in his palms and slotting his lips onto Vince’s.

And for once, everything was working out for Howard Moon, exactly the way he’d hoped it would.

**Author's Note:**

> All of Tony Harrison's titles and job descriptions were taken directly out of The Mighty Book of Boosh. Tony Harrison's proclivity for getting off with earth octopuses was taken directly out of our perverted minds.
> 
> The plural of the word "octopus" is a fascinating conundrum, and if you enjoy language/linguistics, we suggest you look it up. Technically, the correct word is "octopodes," followed in level of correctness by "octopuses." However, since "octopi" has been in the vernacular and considered correct for so long, it is also acceptable, and so we used that as well.
> 
> Neither of us has ever worked in a zoo or done a heist before, so we took a lot of liberties. Also, in our defense, this is a Boosh fic. It doesn't have to make sense. 
> 
> Let us know what you think, and thanks for reading!


End file.
